Will of the Weak
A choking gasp ripped through his throat as Tennyson's eyes snapped open—only to be met with darkness and water.
His body convulsed in panic as icy liquid forced its way into his lungs, burning his chest like fire. He tried to scream, but all that came out were muffled bubbles. His limbs flailed, struggling against the unseen current dragging him deeper into the abyss. Where am I? The last thing he remembered was falling. Then—nothing.
He thrashed wildly, his instincts screaming at him to swim up—but there was no up, no glimmer of light, no surface to reach for. Only the crushing dark.
His vision blurred. The pain in his chest turned unbearable. His body begged for air, but all he could do was swallow more water. His fingers clawed at nothing as the current pulled him forward.
Then—something cold pressed against his hand.
Tennyson barely registered it through the haze of suffocation, but his fingers closed around it instinctively—a pipe? He didn't have time to think. His lungs burned, his throat convulsed violently, his chest screamed—
I'm dying.
His mind fought against the thought, but his body had already given up. The cold grip of unconsciousness began pulling him under—
No. Not yet!
Desperation clawed its way up his spine as he scanned the darkness. His weak vision made everything a blur, but then—there. A shape. A break in the tunnel. A wall? No—a hill. A chance.
With the last ounce of strength in his body, he kicked against the current, using the pipe as leverage. The impact sent a jolt of pain through his limbs, but he lunged upward, the force carrying him out of the water and into open air—
He gasped—violently. Water surged up his throat, and he vomited it onto the stone beneath him, body wracked with violent coughs. His entire form trembled, lungs clawing for oxygen as his fingers dug into the rock. He was alive.
Barely.
Tennyson lay there for a moment, his heartbeat hammering like war drums in his ears. His legs throbbed. His arms were slick with blood, the skin on his palms torn from the impact. But his pouch—his pouch—was still clenched between his teeth.
He pulled himself up, his muscles screaming in protest. As he steadied himself, he looked around. And that's when he saw them.
The guards.
No—not guards. Shadows. Faint outlines standing at the edge of his vision, blurred figures watching him from the corners of the cave, just beyond his weak eyesight. He narrowed his eyes, trying to focus—
But when he blinked, they were gone.
A shiver crawled down his spine. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to move forward. The cave sloped downward, and in the dim glow of luminescent moss, he saw them—stairs.
Man-made stairs.
This wasn't just a cave.
It was a city.
A dead city
He walked for what felt like hours before his feet finally touched solid ground. The end of the waterfall. Tennyson glanced at his broken watch. The last recorded time: 3:12 AM. Had he been falling for an hour? That wasn't possible. He should be dead.
Maybe he was.
The thought made him shudder. He pushed it aside and took in his surroundings. Buildings, crumbling and half-buried in stone. Streets, abandoned and lifeless. And bodies. So many bodies.
Skeletons, sitting slumped over tables. Lying in beds. Frozen mid-action, as if whatever had happened to them hadn't given them time to run. It wasn't decay. It was something else.
Something unnatural.
Tennyson's gut twisted. But survival came first. He began searching the dead. Necklaces, rings, bracelets—artifacts, if he was lucky. The weight of gold and jewels felt reassuring in his pockets. Then—something strange.
A wand.
But it was wrong. The middle was slanted, the handle heavy, its structure too thick for a proper mage's tool. It felt… awkward. Off. Like it was meant to be something else.
Then—a sound.
A low, guttural growl.
Tennyson froze. Slowly, he turned—and his blood ran cold.
A Bloodwolf.
No—two.
One had its jaws locked around the other's throat, blood pooling beneath them as they tore into each other, eyes gleaming with mindless hunger. A rare evolution of wolves starved of both flesh and mana.
They were beyond reason. Uncontrollable.
And now—they had noticed him.
His breath caught. The wolves stopped fighting. For a moment, there was nothing but silence—
Then, they lunged.
Tennyson ran.
He bolted down the tunnel, heart hammering as the beasts closed in. Faster. Their snarls grew louder. His mind raced. The artifacts! He clutched the ring, shoving his mana into it—nothing.
The wand—he poured energy into it—rejected.
Why were they useless?
His lungs burned, his legs screamed, and the wolves—they were gaining. Then—a turn. He took it blindly, skidding into a darkened room. A bed. A mirror. Shelves.
A dead end.
His back hit the wall. Nowhere left to run. His fingers dug into the wand, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white. He could feel something. Something underneath his palm.
A button.
Instinct took over. He pressed it.
And then—his mind shattered.
A Memory That Wasn't His
Tennyson's body locked in place as a wave of foreign knowledge surged into his brain. A mechanism. A design. A missing piece. It wasn't a wand. It had never been a wand.
It was a gun.
His hands moved before he could think. A safety. His fingers searched—jammed. He knew what to do. But how? He had never seen this before, never touched something like this—so why did he know exactly what to do?
His body ignored the question. He lunged for the shelf, grabbed a pin, jammed it into place—
Click.
The moment the safety released, the knowledge vanished. Like it had never been there.
The Bloodwolf snarled.
Tennyson lifted the gun—
And fired.
A deafening crack split the air. The wolf's head snapped back, blood spraying against the walls. It crumpled to the floor. Dead.
Tennyson's breath came in ragged gasps. His hands trembled. He felt—nothing. Not relief. Not horror. Just…emptiness.
Then—a sound.
A chime.
Tennyson's head snapped up just as a transparent screen appeared before his eyes.
Secret Quest: Will of the Weak – Complete
Zelix Tennyson has unlocked the System.
His breath caught in his throat.
The System?
Wasn't this the gift of awakening? The gift only the talented and luck students earned after their education as it wasn't confirmed even after all the money and power.
He had heard of the System, it allowed one to overcome their racial limits and get stronger endlessly, but it was only gained using an awakening ball, yet he earned it without it...
Zelix then saw a new notification
The System need too put the user into a REM sleep to allow syncronisation
Do you accept?
Yes/No
Zelix looked at it, he knew that this is a once in a life time opportunity, yet he could not give up on his sister, if only his sister had the system insead it would have saved her.
He gritted his teeth and said 'No'
The user has declined synchronisation...
Using Akashic Records to understand the reason
Reason Confirmed
System requests an early reward from the server
Server not found
System uses its authority to grant a wish to the user
Seeing this Zelix says "I want my sister to live happily, without disease or anything ever harming her, no matter who they are." he then continued "i know there are better wordings i can use to get more profit out of this but she can die anytime and i don't wish to test your power, so please save her." he dropped down to his knees as he said this having no energy left.
Wish recived
System contacts server
Contact failed
System wishes to teleport user to his sister
Do you accept?
Yes/No
"Yes"
Commencing teleportation
Zelix then saw his body that had no energy left felt as if has had a long night sleep, he was floating in the air and then, streams of light crosses his eyes and in a instant he saw a lot yet he doesn't know what, he looks around to see he is in front of his house and the sky is lighting up showing that there is little time left.